I Am Not Junco Omnibus: Books Four - Six

by J. A. Huss

  A roar of voices bellows out from the living area and my heart swells. I run to the door, throw it open and stop dead when I see who’s in the apartment with me.

  “Braun!” I run to him and he holds his cigar high in the air as I hug his chest. I look up—man, he is massive. So much bigger than I remember. “What are we doing here?”

  “I told you, Snowbird. I got this.” Isten comes out from the kitchen with a couple of beers and Mish is not far behind with a plate of food.

  “We’re getting ready to start a game, Juncs. You in?” Braun asks.

  “Is this real?” I ask, looking around wildly. “Am I alive?”

  “Uh, are we alive?”

  I shake my head and sigh. “No. So I died?”

  Braun pushes me to take a seat at the poker table and hands me a cigar. I take the little gray box, tap out the stogie, and light it on the striker. “We sorta gave up our positions, Juncs. So we could stay here with you.”

  “But everyone said once you cross the Bridge you can’t come back.”

  “We’re not back,” Isten says as he takes his seat between me and Mish.

  “Yeah, we’re still dead,” Mish says. “We’re drifting souls, like all the other poor saps who never made Caleb’s cut. But we figure it’s better to drift here than be stuck over there with those assholes. Especially after what Tier and Lucan did.”

  “Tier.” I whisper it. But I’m not ready to know that yet. I don’t want to know that yet. Because he’s gone and that will just make me…

  “They fucked them over good, Junco,” Braun bellows. And then he takes his cigar out of his mouth and squints his eyes at me. “It was my plan that started it all. I told you.” He looks over at Mish and Isten and points his cigar at them. “I told you assholes I was smart. Didn’t I? Didn’t I?”

  Isten and Mish grumble some affirmations as Braun deals the first hand. “OK, Juncs. I’m gonna forget about all those rills you owe me from way back when, because I’m a nice fucking guy. But I’m just gonna warn you, I’ve played a lot of poker since I died, and I have a whole new bag of cheating dirty tricks.”

  I smile as Isten passes me a beer. “Well, even if I was dead, I’m OK with it.” I laugh. “Cigars, beer, cards, and three of my 039 teammates. This is heaven.”

  I port to the Fledge building for like the millionth time. I walk to the door, palm my hand, and… get nothing. It never opens.

  Why? I mean, I get why. They, whoever they are, don’t want me in here, obviously. But why? Because I really, really want to go inside Fledge.

  It’s so weird to not have a home, and yet I feel at home in so many strange places. Like the 039. How long did I live there? A few days? A week maybe? Yet it feels like home. That room feels like my room because that’s where I woke up after Subjack nuked Peak City and Council 3 and Tier pleaded guilty to treason when he refused to kill me on Earth.

  And even though Fledge was where I committed one of the most horrific acts in the history of my entire existence, it feels like home. Because this is where I learned to fly.

  I have to stop and cry a little at this thought. Because I felt so powerful back then. Even though these aliens controlled everything about me, even though they made me fight and kill kids in these fights to prove myself, I felt so in control when I was here. I felt… invincible.

  Fledge is where I met Kush. Where I gathered my team, Tier’s Fledge team. Tessen, Merkar, Pike, Wyrd, those other guys whose names I still don’t even fucking know. And up in that church is where Annun became my choice.

  We sorta changed history.

  Shifted fate.

  I walk over to the stone bench I used to sit on all time and pull out a cigar. I smoke a lot these days. I blame it on Braun, he’s forever lighting up. This bench is where Lucan and I became friends. Where he told me there was nothing I could do to save Tier.

  And he was right, wasn’t he?

  I was wrong, but I didn’t know it back then because my sight was short and Lucan’s sight was far. Where I saw the end of the Deliverance fight, Lucan saw the end of the world. He never did lie to me, that’s true. He said I’d be broken in the end. He said I’d never be able to save Tier.

  And he was right on both counts.

  I feel pretty sane these days, but that’s because this isn’t real. It’s a virtual. I’m locked away in something… some computer program, or cloud, or hell, who the fuck knows. Maybe I’m living this inside my own head. Maybe Isten and Braun and Mish aren’t real at all. Maybe I’m so fucking insane I’ll never find my way back.

  But I don’t feel insane. I think it’s because I look like the old me. I was a little stunned when I looked in the mirror that first day. My hair is the old ugly brown. My eyes the old ugly hazel. My fingers are missing on my left hand. I smile at this. Who would’ve ever thought that missing two fingers would make me feel normal.

  But it does.

  All my old scars are back. That ugly gash on my neck where Matthew shot me on the sniper range. The SEAR knife gash down the middle of my stomach where I sliced myself in half to save Tier. The long scar down my cheek where that clone Aren sliced open my jaw when he took my SEAR knife back on Earth. Even that nasty cut I got from wrecking the Goat out in the Stag that first night I met Tier is back.

  These things make me feel… whole.

  Everything about that Archer body was just wrong. It was too perfect, too pretty, too… not me.

  But this body. This fucking body knows what’s up. This body holds all the good history—scars and all. Because it’s just like I told Tier that night on the red rock before he brought me here to morph. Every moment counts. You can’t trade in a single one.

  I am the sum of my moments.

  And I think I’m OK with that.

  Isten ports in next to me. “What’s up, Juncs?”

  I shrug. “I want to go inside, Isten. I need to go inside.”

  He stares at me for a few seconds. Not mad, like I would’ve expected. He knows why I want to go inside and I know he’s probably against it. But he looks thoughtful, not angry. “Want me to come with you?”

  “Yes,” I say, a little bit stunned. “But it won’t let me in.”

  “Mmmm. Well, I can help you out, I guess. I have all-access privileges. I’m like God here, Junco.”

  I laugh. “You have no minions, Isten, that’s not as cool as it sounds.”

  He tilts his head. “Yeah, maybe I need some minions. Anyway, come on.” He grabs my hand and pulls. I stuff my cigar in a standing ashtray as I pass, then follow him over to the doors.

  I point to the grass over to the left of the door. “Lucan smacked me once, Isten. Right there. I fell over so hard.” I stop and laugh. “Man, that really hurt. He hit me right across the cheek.”

  “I’m pretty sure you deserved it, Junco. Lucan called a meeting that day, told us everything. Asked us if we ever got the urge to knock you upside the head.” Isten palms his hand on the biometrics and the doors whoosh open. Then he looks down at me and smiles. “We could all relate to his frustration. In fact,” he says as we walk up the stairs to level three, “we all got drunk that night and traded Junco stories.” He ruffles my hair like I’m some small child. “But we all decided in the end, you were worth the trouble, Juncs.”

  We walk into the dorm room and it looks exactly the same. Like today is the day of Fight Seven. I look around, half expecting Kush or Isec or Tess to be there. But they’re not. Because this is not real. Isten doesn’t even break his stride, just continues across the room until we walk into the mast. We stand in the middle and look up.

  “It’s far,” I say.

  “Yeah, ya wanna hop on, Junco? I’ll take you up.”

  I just stare at him. “You’re gonna take me up? Why? You hate the church.”

  “I don’t really hate it, Junco. I hate what it meant to you, that’s all.” He sighs long and loud, like he’s giving up. “This was my secret. Lucan parceled them out to each of us, and this, Juncs, was mine. I w
as told the history of the Fallen Archer since—fuck, for as long as I can remember. I just wasn’t supposed to share it with you. Or anyone, for that matter.”

  “Will you share it today?”

  “I don’t think I’ll need to,” he says softly. “Hop on, Snowbird. I’ll be your wings today.”

  I enjoy the ride up. Isten doesn’t hurry either, like he knows I’m looking at all the relief art that’s molded into the side of the mast. It’s mostly gargoyles and shit like that. Gothic, I think they call it on Earth. Some angels, of course, and some men. I think it tells a story, actually. But I don’t have enough time to decipher it. We fly slow, but not slow enough for that.

  Isten lands on the Level Six terrace like a pro and I slide down his back. The doors are still imposing, and when I enter the vestibule, the presumably important winged angel statue is still standing guard. Isten opens the second door and the sweet smell of the Fledge church permeates my nose. I’m off balance for a moment and then…

  I’m standing on a dusty riverbank in the searing desert heat. I see Lucan, but he looks like that man version I saw him turn into before he was all demonized for being on Earth. His wings are jet black and they are magnificent, even tucked up against his back. His hair is not blond, but not brown either. In between. And his eyes are the color of the sea again.

  I smile.

  He’s with a woman and they walk along the river. He looks happy. I walk with them and time starts to pass quickly. I watch them go to bed in a large room with a stone floor and a view of a town center outside. There are preparations for some kind of celebration all during the night.

  And then that Angel comes and takes the woman away.

  Lucan wakes, but it’s too late.

  I watch, helpless, like Lucan, as his wings are cut off and the membranous bat wings sprout to take the place of the beautiful feathered ones. He is strung up on the cross. His woman is next to him. That Angel is yelling at them, screaming out into the crowd of people about something… something bad. And then Lucan’s amputated wings are sewn onto the woman’s back as she wails in pain.

  My fingers go to my back but there are no bumps.

  I was never meant to have wings.

  That’s what Inanna said. Even Sera hinted at it.

  “But sometimes, Snowbird,” Isten says, standing next to me in the dream, “you can’t escape your fate.”

  We watch as the Angel cuts off the woman’s head and it rolls along the ground. “That’s me, isn’t it?” I look up to Isten and he’s nodding. “I’m the Fallen Archer?”

  “She had a soul, and you are that soul.”

  “I was Lucan’s punishment?”

  “How perfect would it have been to have the one woman he loved—before our Amelia, of course—be the only one who could kill him and break his punishment cycle?”

  “And Tier?”

  “Was just like you, Junco. The perfect biological weapon. The SEAR knife exploded him, and his body has been prepped since he was five years old to dissipate a High Order being upon impact. That’s why all his gifts were illegal and unsanctioned. He was seven thousand years of planning. He was a weapon.”

  “And I was the soldier.” I let out a long breath and we’re back inside the church, sitting down on the first bench in front of the iconic Fallen Archer. “Was it worth it?” I ask, looking up at my twine.

  “I have no idea. But you can go home and find out.”

  “What’s waiting for me? Ashur and Selia? The baby? My parents? Gid—” I almost choke on his name. “Is Gideon alive?”

  “I dunno, Juncs. We are here and they are there. It’s not the same place.”

  I look around the church as I think about what might be waiting for me. Nothing. I might have nothing. Not even my stupid, worthless mother might be alive. “I think I’ll stay.” Isten shifts in his seat. “I think I’ll stay a little longer, Isten. Is that OK?”

  “Take your time. You’ve got all the time in the world to be ready.”

  I do stay. For how long, I’m just not sure. But each morning when I wake up, I wonder if this is the day I leave. And each day when I lie down in my bed, I say, no. This is not the day.

  I have no idea how long this goes on. I’m not sure time passes here. I’m not even sure it’s the same from moment to moment. Some days seem extremely long, some nights barely happen at all. But it begins to drag me down. How many poker games can you play before they’re not fun anymore? How many times can you wander the halls of the Fledge building, or the empty tavern where Ashur used to take me to eat while he watched sports? That Jax Justice picture is still on the dartboard. Every time I go there I throw darts right at the eye, just like I did way back when. I throw so many darts that the eye is just a gaping hole in the paper target.

  But the next time I go back, it’s whole again.

  This place is on reset.

  It’s like… a loop. A time loop.

  “Are you real?” I ask the guys as we eat breakfast one morning.

  I ask this often. They don’t answer me today.

  “I don’t think you’re real,” I say this time. Usually I just let them say yes, but since they’ve decided not to reassure me, I decide to be rebellious. “You’re not real. I’m not real either. This is fake.”

  Mish looks up from his eggs. “It’s your dream world, Junco, not ours. I’m pretty sure we’d all rather be in a virtual of Sargassum Island Resort with half-naked girls running around on the sand. But hey, we’re good with waiting it out.”

  It hits me then. They’re satisfied. Not happy, not sad, just… satisfied.

  I laugh. And I can’t stop laughing. I laugh so hard the guys look at me funny, and when I keep it up, they have no choice but to join me, because that kind of laughter is contagious.

  Isten punches me in the shoulder as we grab our stomachs and say, “Oh, shit, make it stop!” over and over again. “Why are you laughing, Junco?” he finally manages.

  And then I cry. Because this is all there is for me. Sera promised me satisfaction and this is what that means. Not happy, not sad. Just existing. I have reached a state of satisfaction.

  And it’s not even close to being worth it.

  Not even close to making up for all the things I gave up to get to this crummy Destiny.

  The only thing on my mind right now is how the fuck do I get out of this place?

  I’d rather be breaking in half from sadness at losing Tier than the empty satisfaction I have from this empty world.

  Chapter Forty-Five—JUNCO

  Amelia Habitat – The Band

  “Junco?”

  I am lifted up from the goo. Again.

  I am carried to the water to be washed off. Again.

  I don’t even bother to open my eyes, even after the warm shower water breaks the seal that crusts over them. Why? I cough and sputter, vomit a little, even. I just let Lucan wash me and hold me up as the blasts of warm air replace the water.

  My hand darts to my shoulder, but—yeah. No wings.

  “You don’t need wings or those two fingers, Junco,” Lucan says in that soft I care about you voice. “You were perfect to begin with.”

  I actually open my eyes for that bullshit. “Don’t, OK? Just don’t.”

  “You’re naked. Put some clothes on and meet me in the other room. I have something to tell you.”

  He walks out before I can complain, so I just go over to the cubbies and grab the only clothes in there. I pile them on the low couch and take a seat. This time I get jeans, which slip on and fit like they were made just for me, a white tank top, and a brown hoodie with orange lettering that says, I’ll Work For Beer. It’s like Braun was in charge of choosing my outfit. I slide my feet into the field boots and don’t bother lacing them up.

  I sigh as I scuff through the open door—so, so tired, even though I know my body has been doing nothing but floating in gel for God knows how long. Lucan looks normal again. Black suit, perfectly coiffed hair, blue eyes, no bat wings or fangs. H
e taps me on the shoulder and we’re out in space.

  “Have a seat, Junco.”

  I sit on the air. I still have no idea how he does this shit.

  “You’re mine now.”

  “That’s just rude—”

  “No, you’re mine in that you no longer belong to Crage and Inanna. Your real parents. I took you. He wanted you back, but I said no. If you feel it’s necessary I will explain all the reasons why I think they are bad people—”

  I put up a hand. “No, I’m good with that, thanks.” I feel a little self-conscious as the silence drags on, so I guess I better just get it over with. “Sorry for not following orders, Lucan.”

  “You did everything right, Junco. There is nothing to forgive.”

  I laugh. “I didn’t do anything right. I disobeyed Tier’s order. I told you not to count on me for anything.”

  “You did follow orders, Junco. The order was to kill Tier, not me. Tier just felt you needed to make your own choice, so he gave Annun the wrong target on purpose and let you work out what was best. He’s honored that you decided to save him from an eternity of hell.”

  It takes a few moments for all this to sink in but once it does… “Wait, he is honored? Like, he’s still alive?”

  Lucan furrows his brow as I wait, looking up at him expectantly. “You really thought I’d kill him?”

  I look away, a little disgusted. “Uh, yeah. You kinda had a one-track mind there, Lucan. Save me, Junco. Kill the Angels, Junco. Do as I say, Junco. I’m so fucking important, Junco.” My eyes track back to his smiling face. “This ringing any bells, Mr. I-Own-the-Universe?”

  And then he bellows out his joy as roaring laughter.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Would you like to know how I did it? Or no? You’re just gonna be a smartass and try to make me feel bad?”

  “Whatever.” I wave my hand absently at him. “Get your gloat time in, go ahead. You’ve waited a long time for your party, I won’t spoil it. Tell me how clever you are.”

  “The Halo was a shield. Your SEAR knife was the trigger to explode Tier—”